


Give A Little Help to the Helpless

by Merixcil



Series: Advent Fics 2019 [12]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Homelessness, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: A strange man comes to town
Relationships: Jesus Christ & Judas Iscariot
Series: Advent Fics 2019 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916806





	Give A Little Help to the Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Do They Know it’s Christmas? by Band Aid 20](https://open.spotify.com/track/042Yt1xKxDHPBmGokgf1jl)  
> 

Travellers from out of town, what few there are, are so surprised at how cold Keriot can get at this time of year. They’re only coming through on their way up to Jerusalem, stopping awhile if they think they’re not going to make it for the sake of celebrating Hanukkah in civilisation rather than the desert. They’ve heard that this country is barren and assume that means the heat of the sun is what scrubs it clean of life for most of the year. 

The land is not barren, just difficult. If you know how to farm it properly it yields to lush fields and olive groves the pride of all Israel. Judas keeps himself in good supply of blankets and wears wool like it’s going out of fashion, and the winter doesn’t bother him so much. 

Two days after Hanukkah has ended, when most everyone who used Keriot as a layover before heading to the capital have moved on, a group of religious zealots come through, their clothes worn and thin and some of them without shoes. They gather in the square at the centre of town and lay out sleeping packs and canopies as if they intend to bed down there. 

It’s not uncommon for those less fortunate to use the town centre as a makeshift home. In truth, these homeless travellers are just adding to a congregation that already exists, but none of them are familiar to the locals, and so they raise eyebrows. They gather around the fire after dark, wrapping themselves in their sleeping mats, and invite the homeless folk who have been living in Keriot for years to join them. They smile, they share their food, and when Judas sees them begging around town, it’s always in pairs. 

“I like him.” The baker says, as they trade bread for blankets first thing in the morning. Everyone knows each other here, everyone shares their opinion. 

Judas doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “Who?”

“Their leader.”

And sure enough, the next time Judas cares to look, he sees the way they all lean towards one main in the middle of their supposedly egalitarian circle. He sees the way that the people who join the circle do the same. He doesn’t hog the limelight, but when he talks, no one can help but listen. 

Judas has seen rabbis who have the same effect on people before, but they usually have celebrity status, crowds waiting at the edge of town for them to appear. This is different, a slow murmur rippling through the streets that maybe this man is more than just a vagrant, that his followers could be better than fools. And still Judas doesn’t learn his name until they talk face to face. 

It’s a clear day, the skies milky blue and the air crisp and cold. The sun might warm them all before the day is done, but the night will be long and bitter. Judas passes through the town square not long after sunrise, and the people are singing. 

Low and quiet, so as not to wake anyone, but the sound is lovely all the same. Layered with harmonies and mixing perfectly with the dawn chorus. Judas pauses to listen, looking over at the gathered group, now twice as large as it was when they first arrived, all smiling towards their leader. 

Judas assumes it’s one of their rituals. The less charitable of the people of Keriot label them a cult, after all. The leader’s eyes flicker upwards and latch onto his though, and Judas feels his guts cut away from the rest of his body. _I am lost_ , he thinks, without any due cause. _Lost and never less alone._

This man has long dark hair, and bright gold eyes that seem to shine with the force of the sun. Smiling, he asks his followers to pause their singing, before he stands and walks over to Judas. 

“Good morning, brother.”

“Morning.” Judas replies, trying to avert his eyes but finding he is unable. “What’s all that about then?”

The leader looks back over his shoulder, to where his followers are leaning forward in anticipation, like they already know how this exchange plays out. “They were singing for me.”

“Oh. Because of your religion?”

The man laughs, not at Judas, not at all. If anything, he is laughing with joy at the miracle of creation. “Religion? I’m as Jewish as you, brother. They were singing because it’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday.”

“Yes. I was born in the middle of winter, in a stable in Bethlehem.”

Bethlehem is far from here, but Judas is sure that plenty of babies get born in stables. An odd thing to lie about and an odd thing to say. 

“Do you want to join us?” The leader asks, looking to Judas expectantly. 

Judas would like to see it all happening up close, but he doesn’t have time. He has blankets to sell, and this is the season to sell them. He shakes his head, but reaches for his stock slung over his shoulder, pulling out something brown and sturdy. He holds it out. “I can’t. But take this.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“It will be cold tonight. Take the blanket.” Judas says. 

The leader holds the offered blanket, staring at it like he’s never held one before. “You know, there are many people in this town who need this more than I.”

“Then give it to one of them if you want. I’m giving it to you.”

“And I’m grateful.” The blanket is folded and tucked under the leader’s arm. He holds out a hand for Judas to shake. “It was nice to meet you. Can I ask your name?”

“Judas.” Judas tells him, before he can think better of it. The man claims to be Jewish but he’s heard tell of cults finding ways to barter names into curses.

“Nice to meet you Judas. My name is Jesus, and you are always welcome at my fireside.” And with that, Jesus returns to the group, and the low sussuration of their song starts up again. Judas stays just long enough to see him sling the blanket over his shoulders, holding out a corner for the woman at his right hand side to feel how soft it is. 

They look warm together. Warm and safe. Judas continues on to his shop, already painfully aware that he will spend the rest of the day trying and failing to get those eyes out of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'advent fics' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have
> 
> This song is pure garbage


End file.
